


Pastimes & Lifestyles

by Netgirl_y2k



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 23:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netgirl_y2k/pseuds/Netgirl_y2k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin never comes to Camelot the Great Dragon recruits Morgana to act as Arthur's protector. Now Morgana's got a magic sword, dreams that come true and a girlfriend who - if you believe the Dragon - is destined to marry her foster brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pastimes & Lifestyles

When Uther first brought Morgana to Camelot as a child she had dreams of dragons. When she told the young prince about them Arthur told her, with a level of arrogance only available to royals and nine year old boys, not to be so foolish; his father had slain all the dragons. 

Many years have passed since Morgana last dreamed about dragons, these days most of her dreams concern a boy (thank goodness she'd had the sense to stop confiding in Arthur.) A boy with messy dark hair, a wide smile and the ability to move objects merely by thinking about it. 

_Merlin_ a rumbling voice in her dream informed her, _he is Merlin, Morgana._ 

In Morgana's dream Merlin wished to come to Camelot, but his mother had heard about Uther's reign; about the execution of sorcerers and she sent her son far away to the North where magic still ruled. Morgana watched Merlin turn away from Camelot. 

_Morgana. Morgana, wake up. MORGANA._

Morgana woke with a cry and the feeling that something had just gone terribly wrong. 

“My lady!” Gwen, who'd been bustling around the room setting out Morgana's things for the day, rushed to her bedside. “I'm sorry, I should have woken you as soon as I arrived but you looked like you needed the sleep. Not that I'm saying you look bad,” she sounded appalled. “Not that you could ever look bad. I just meant-” 

“It's alright, Gwen,” Morgana brushed her maid's concern away. “It was only a bad dream.” 

“Have you run out of sleeping draught?” Gwen asked, “Because I could fetch some more from Gaius.” 

“No, I've got plenty.” Since childhood Gaius had been prescribing her a draught that gave her dreamless nights. That usually gave her dreamless nights, recently it had become less effective. “Is there anything important happening today?” 

Gwen stopped in the process of laying out Morgana's breakfast. “Only...” 

“Only what, Gwen?” 

“The king wants you to attend the execution.” 

“The execution. He's arrested another villager?” Morgana threw back the bedcovers and demanded her clothes. 

By the time she was halfway to the throne room Morgana had forgotten all about her dream of Merlin. The dream voice, however, stayed with her throughout the day. 

* 

“My lord, they were harmless enchantments to ward off illness, he was hardly trying to overthrow the crown.” It wasn't like Uther paid any heed when Morgana objected to him beheading anyone who so much as thought the word sorcerer. But it provided some much needed entertainment for the rest of the court so he allowed her to say her piece. 

_Morgana._

“My lord, I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt me.”

“Morgana, tempting though it was, I did not interrupt you.”

* 

“Was there a particular reason,” Arthur asked, when he and Morgana had finished dining with the king, “why you kept kicking me in the shins under the table?”

“You were irritating me with that foolish game, whispering my name throughout the meal.” 

“You are mad,” declared Arthur before striding off to get on with whatever it was he did all day. Stabbing straw men and tormenting the servants, Morgana had always assumed. 

_Morgana._

“I heard that!” she called after him, coming dangerously close to stamping her foot in annoyance. 

* 

_Morgana._ 

Morgana glared around her, annoyed at being the victim of this particularly unfunny practical joke. Her gaze narrowed on the servant who was the only other person present. “You, did you hear that?” 

“Hear what, my lady?” the servant mumbled. 

“Someone addressed me just then.” 

“I didn't hear anything,” he looked terrified.

_Morgana._ 

“You don't hear that?” Morgana demanded. 

“No, my lady. Sorry, my lady.” 

Morgana wondered if she was allowed to have servants dragged away to the dungeons for failing to hear voices that were perfectly clear to her. She decided that even if it was permissible it was probably a bad idea. 

“What's your name?” Morgana asked. 

“Morris, Lady Morgana,” he replied miserably. 

Morgana had thought he looked familiar. He'd recently been co-opted as Arthur's manservant after the prince's last servant had crawled into the kennels where the castle hounds were kept and refused to come out after being used for target practice one too many times. Morgana shuddered to think what Arthur would say if he knew she was hearing voices and accosting servants in hallways.

“Well, Morris, if you're thinking of telling Prince Arthur about this little chat of ours I'd like you to remember that my knife throwing is far more accurate than his.” Morgana flashed Morris her wickedest smile and watched him flee, possibly to go and live with the castle dogs. 

* 

_Morgana._ 

Gwen brushing out her hair at the end of the evening always had a soporific effect on Morgana, but she snapped awake at the sound of her name. “I'm sorry, Gwen, what were you saying?” 

“I wasn't saying anything, my lady.”

“Oh.” 

Gwen ended the awkward moment by asking Morgana if she'd heard what had happened at the execution.

Morgana had defied Uther's wishes and not attended the beheading of the suspected sorcerer and Gwen never watched them, but apparently the entire castle was abuzz with the news that a witch had appeared at the execution, threatened the prince's life and vanished before the guards could seize her. 

Gwen's fingers combed through Morgana's hair, feeling for tangles. “I hope it's not true that she was the mother of the man who was executed. I can't imagine how awful it must feel to watch someone you love killed.”

_Morgana._ 

Morgana's hair tumbled from Gwen's hands as she jerked forward at the voice which Gwen showed no sign of having heard. “Thank you, Gwen. That will be all for tonight,” although surprised at her abrupt dismissal Gwen obediently departed. 

Morgana finished preparing for bed without any further interruptions from the irksome voice. She was just slipping between the sheets when-

_Morgana._ 

Utterly fed up Morgana threw herself from the bed and slammed the door open. “What is-?” she cut herself off; she was not yet crazy enough to be shouting at an empty hallway. 

_Morgana._

Morgana stepped back into her chambers and firmly closed the door. 

_Mor-_

“In a minute!” she snapped. She went to the cupboard and pulled on her dressing gown, slippers and a fur wrap. Now at least semi-decently attired she stepped out into the corridor, “Well?” 

_Morgana._

“I see,” she said coldly. “I'll just follow the sound of your voice through this freezing castle at midnight, shall I?”

Rolling laughter was her only response. 

“I don't appreciate being laughed at by a figment of my imagination, you know.” 

* 

The voice led her deep beneath the castle, below the wine cellars and even the dungeon. She was careful to go quietly, it would a brave guard who would question the movements of the king's ward, but Morgana would prefer not to be stopped until she had an answer to the question, 'what voice, my lady?'

She came to the top of a steep flight of stairs, lit a torch, picked up the train of her dressing gown (which had clearly been designed with the aim of preventing late night wanderings in mind) and started descending. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, it smelled like something had died down here, it smelled like several something’s had died down here. The stairs ended at a ledge protruding out into a damp, cold cave.

Morgana held her torch out in front of her, “Hello?” she called. 

There was a rattle of chains and a sudden gust of wind caused the flames of the torch to flicker. Before Morgana could consider whether a mysterious cave with an unknown something chained up in it was really somewhere she wanted to be in the middle of the night, an enormous Dragon swooped into view. 

Morgana had never seen a Dragon before on account of how they were supposedly extinct, but she'd seen pictures and unless she'd been grossly misinformed about the nature of the rodents under the castle this was definitely a Dragon, with a capital D. 

It settled on a rock facing Morgana's, suddenly very exposed feeling, ledge. It folded its wings back and stared at her. 

When Morgana had been a child she'd been allowed to play games with Arthur and the other boys of the court. Whatever boy had been forced to pick Morgana for his team had invariably looked her up and down with a resigned oh-I-suppose-you'll-have-to-do look. The Dragon was regarding her in the same manner. 

“Ah, the young seer. Here at last.” 

Morgana had been subjected to endless etiquette lessons as a child, but none of them had mentioned the correct form of address when faced with a giant talking Dragon. This was obviously an egregious oversight. “You're the one who's been calling me?” 

“I have a job for you.”

“I apologise, my lord,” Morgana all but sneered. “I did not realise I was employed by you.” 

The Dragon chuckled. “You almost weren't. But the young warlock, Merlin, is not coming to Camelot. You must protect the once and future king.”

“Arthur. You're asking me to protect Arthur?” Morgana nearly laughed out loud at this. 

“Yes, young seer.” 

“And stop calling me that. I'm not a seer!”

“I see. You dreamed of Merlin, did you not?”

“Beaky looking boy, poorly concealed magical powers? Yes. But that's the first dream I've had in years-” 

“Because the physician has been drugging you.” 

Morgana was about to object. Of course Gaius wasn't drugging her, she'd known him since childhood and he'd been giving her a draught to combat her nightmares ever since... ever since she'd innocently told him as a girl that she was dreaming of dragons. The torch in her hand wavered and she realised she was shaking with rage. 

“Go,” the Dragon told her. “Forgo the physician's medicine and return tomorrow.” 

Morgana fled up the stairs. Before getting into bed she picked up the bottle that contained her sleeping draught and dashed it against the wall. 

* 

Morgana knew it was a dream because she was the only member of the court who was conscious. The others were slumped over their plates and goblets. It was true that the king could be a little trying when he was reminiscing about the old days, but it was generally considered bad form to actually fall asleep while he was talking. 

The only movement in the room was Lady Helen, the singer. She looked as though she was in the middle of a performance but Morgana couldn't hear her. For the first time she realised she couldn't hear anything at all. 

Her attention was caught by a flash of movement on the other side of the hall, Gwen, gesturing and shouting something that Morgana couldn't make out. 

“What?” 

In the moment Morgana's attention had been distracted Lady Helen had produced a dagger from her dress. 

It found its mark in Arthur's heart. 

* 

She woke with a muffled scream to find Gwen perched on the edge of her bed, reaching out to wake her. Gwen looked as though she was about to jump up and apologise for her impropriety, but before she could Morgana threw herself forward into her maid's arms. Gwen was startled but pulled Morgana against her, stroking her hair while Morgana whispered incoherently about Arthur, a dagger and dreams that weren't really dreams. 

“Shush, it's okay, it's all okay,” Gwen made soothing noises, rocking gently until, sometime later, Morgana stiffened in her arms. 

“Gwen,” she said awkwardly, her face pressed against Gwen's chest. “I think you can let me go now.” 

“Er, yes, my lady. I was just thinking that myself.” 

There was an awkward moment where they disentangled themselves and Morgana made an attempt to smooth down her tangled hair, Gwen tried to surreptitiously wipe Morgana's tears from the front of her dress and neither of them could make eye contact with the other. Then Gwen took a step back and some of the glass from the vial of sleeping draught crunched under her heel. 

“Stay there,” she instructed Morgana, “there's broken glass on the floor.” 

“Yes, I... I must have knocked over a glass of water while I was dreaming.” Gwen looked at the miraculously intact glass and pitcher of water on Morgana's table and wisely said nothing. She bent to clear up the glass while Morgana got out of the other side of the bed and went to splash some cold water on her face. 

“My lady,” Gwen began, “Morgana, you do know that you can tell me anything, don't you? If there's anything wrong...” 

If Gwen had asked her only a few moments ago Morgana would probably have told her everything: that she'd spent most of yesterday hearing a voice that no one else could, that the voice belonged to the Dragon that Uther was secretly keeping prisoner under the castle. That the same Dragon expected Morgana to understudy for some absentee warlock as Arthur's bodyguard and had told her she was a seer. That if her dreams really were prophetic then England's greatest singer was going to murder Arthur.

But the moment had passed so instead Morgana told her to be careful not to cut herself on the broken glass.

* 

Morgana was foiled in her first attempt to speak to the Dragon by the fact that the entrance to the cave appeared to be guarded during the day. What sort of commander placed guards around the entrance to a mysterious hidden cave during the day but not at night? She really must speak to Uther about the quality of the castle's security. 

She wasted some time loitering near the entrance, but she could hardly march up and demand admittance because she needed to talk to the Dragon about her prophetic dream. And the guards were clearly getting ideas from her continued presence, one of them had winked at her! So she wandered slowly back up to her chambers musing on her dream. Maybe the Dragon was wrong about her dreams, after all what reason would Lady Helen have for killing Arthur? She was a singer, not a murderess. She got so lost in her thoughts that she rounded a corner and walked straight into the prince himself. 

“Morgana, watch where you're going!” 

“I should watch where I'm going?! What are you doing skulking in hallways, anyway?” 

“I am the prince of Camelot, I do not skulk, I...” he narrowed his eyes at Morgana. “What are you doing in this part of the castle, shouldn't you be brushing your hair or executing one of your fifteen daily changes of clothing?” 

Not wanting to get into a discussion of her purposes Morgana gave an exaggerated sniff, “Speaking of changes of clothing, I think you landed in something foul on the training field.” With that she strode past him, only to take a few steps then turn to find Arthur with his head bowed sniffing at his shirt. “Arthur?”

“What?” he dropped his shirt, trying and failing to look dignified. 

“You never mortally offended Lady Helen, did you?” 

“Believe it or not, Morgana, with women other than yourself I am the model of chivalry and charm.” 

“Hmph,” Morgana snorted. 

“You can ask her at the feast tomorrow if you don't believe me.” 

“Lady Helen's coming to Camelot?” 

“Yes, my father asked her to perform... Hey, where are you running off to?” 

*

Morgana was distracted and moody for the rest of the day. Gwen made a couple of attempts to cheer her up, once with flowers, once by suggesting that they liberate two practice swords from the armoury and practice swordplay. Both times she was distractedly rebuffed. 

After Gwen had left her for the evening Morgana pulled her dressing gown on over her nightdress. She promised herself that if she was going to make a habit of sneaking out of her chambers in the dead of night she'd invest in some clothes that she could get into without help. 

This time she got down to the Dragon's cave unimpeded to find it curled up on its rock, apparently asleep. “You believe me now?” it asked, opening one eye. 

“I know I had a dream about Lady Helen before I knew she was coming to Camelot, but why would Helen possibly want to kill Arthur?” 

“Lady Helen of Mora has no desire to kill the future king,” the Dragon said cryptically. “Nevertheless if you do not act then he will die.” 

“Arthur's surrounded by the knights of Camelot, he's been trained for battle his entire life. And you expect me to believe he requires me to look after him.” 

“Arthur has many enemies, and not all of them will face him in battle. Many of them must be dealt with in subtler ways.” 

Morgana wanted to laugh at that, she'd heard enough of the castle gossip to know she was regarded as more of a blunt instrument than Arthur himself. The Dragon reared up and spread its enormous wings, preparing to take off. 

“If you're lying to me-” Morgana began. 

The Dragon dropped back onto all fours, its claws scraped menacingly along the rock. Morgana flinched as a jet of flame from its nostrils stopped just short of the ledge where she was standing. “You'll do what, seer?” 

Morgana forced herself not to step back. “I shall have every entrance to this cave bricked up.”

The Dragon reared up but to Morgana's surprise, instead of incinerating her alive, it laughed. “I think the future king and queen of Camelot will be perfectly safe under your protection.” 

“Hey!” Morgana called as the Dragon launched and flew in a lazy loop around the cave. “No one said anything about having to protect a queen as well.”

Not about to stand there in the cold once it had become clear that the Dragon was not about to return and explain itself, Morgana turned and went up the stairs. At the top she found her way barred by two guards with drawn swords. 

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. 

“This part of the castle is out of bounds,” said Arthur, stepping out of the shadows. 

“To me?” 

“What are you doing down here at this time of night, Morgana?” 

“I-” 

“She's sleepwalking.” Morgana looked up, startled to see Gwen hurrying down the steps towards them. “Thank goodness you found her before anything happened, sire. I've been worrying myself sick.”

Morgana watched as Gwen, without appearing to push, made her way past two armed guards and the prince of the realm. She wrapped an arm round Morgana's waist and said, “Let’s get you back to bed, my lady.” Then, with a slight curtsy and a couple of 'sires' in Arthur's direction, she was guiding Morgana gently but firmly away. 

“I'm not sleepwalking,” Morgana hissed. 

“I'm sorry, my lady, did have you have a better way to explain your wandering the castle in your nightclothes to Arthur?” 

“Fine. Fine, I'm sleepwalking.” 

Gwen kept an arm around Morgana until they reached her chambers. She closed the door behind them, tugged off Morgana's dressing gown and hung it up. She got Morgana to sit on the bed and removed her slippers. Only when she had tucked the sheets in around her did she step back, raise an eyebrow and say, “Well?” 

“As you say, Gwen, I was sleepwalking.”

“A word of advice, my lady, the next time you use that lie be sure you haven't just denied sleepwalking to the person you're talking to.” 

“Didn't I send you home some hours ago?” Morgana asked coldly.

Gwen sighed sadly, “Of course I can't make you tell me. I just thought, I hoped, that you trusted me as more than merely a servant. Goodnight, Morgana.” 

Gwen was halfway out the door when Morgana said, “The king is keeping a Dragon prisoner in the caves beneath the castle. A talking Dragon, as it happens. I think you should close that door and take a seat. That is, if you really want to know?” 

By the time Morgana had finished her tale Gwen was perched on the end of her bed. “There's a Dragon living under the castle?”

“I had trouble believing it myself.” 

“No,” said Gwen, “it explains a lot.” 

“It does?” 

“Yes. The amount of raw meat that goes through the castle kitchens for one thing.” 

Morgana couldn't help laughing at that, although whether it was at the comment, or just out of sheer relief that Gwen believed her and that she wasn't alone, she couldn't tell. 

“You should get some sleep,” Gwen told her, gently pushing her back into the pillows and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Lady Helen arrives tomorrow, one way or another it's going to be a busy day.” 

“You should stay in the castle tonight,” Morgana said. “It's too late for you to be walking home.” 

“I'll be fine, and I don't want to intrude.”

“Nonsense, I insist. I'm sure they'll find room for you in the servants' quarters.” 

“Yes, er, I'm sure they will. Goodnight, my lady.”

* 

The next morning Gwen and Morgana stood on the castle battlements watching Lady Helen and her entourage arrive. 

“She doesn't look she's planning to kill Prince Arthur, does she?” Gwen observed. 

“If everyone who wished to assassinate Uther or Arthur advertised the fact then the lives of the castle guards would be much easier and the population of Camelot would be significantly smaller. I had that dream again last night.”

“The same one?” 

“Yes. In the middle of her performance Helen produces a dagger and kills Arthur.” 

“And everyone in the hall was asleep, apart from you?” 

“And you. You were calling to me, but I couldn't hear what you were saying. Honestly, I'd expect prophetic dreams to come with sound included. I've half a mind to ask for a refund.” 

“Hmm.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing, I'm sure it's- Oh, I've found out what rooms Lady Helen has been given, and she's sure to be having an audience with the king at the moment.” 

Morgana turned to Gwen with a smile, “Are you suggesting that we go and snoop through the personal possessions of the king's honoured guest?” 

Gwen mumbled something that Morgana didn't quite catch. “I'm sorry, Guinevere, I didn't hear that.” 

“Yes. I mean if she means Arthur any harm surely we must-” 

“Oh, absolutely we must,” Morgana looped her arm through Gwen's, “lead the way.” 

* 

A thorough search of the singer's belongings yielded nothing more than a few pairs of earrings that Morgana (after careful consideration) decided it would be beneath her to steal.

“I'm sorry,” Gwen apologised as she swept Morgana's hair up into the style she was intending to wear it to the banquet. “I really thought we'd find something in her rooms.” 

“It was a good idea,” Morgana said, turning this way and that in order to see the necklace she was wearing reflected from all angles. “It's hardly your fault that she didn't leave a scroll containing her secret plan to kill the prince rolled up her luggage.” 

Morgana admired her dress, jewellery and hairstyle in the mirror and decided she was satisfied with all three. “I think we're ready to go.”

“There's, um, just one more thing. It's just an idea I had, it's probably stupid,” Gwen reached into the pocket of her dress and produced two sets of... “Wax earplugs. I got them from the kitchen. I just thought that it might be important that you couldn't hear anything in the dream. It's a silly idea.” 

She was about to shove the earplugs back into her pocket when Morgana caught her wrist, “No, it's worth a try.”

* 

Morgana spent most of the banquet with Arthur, both of them found it an unexpectedly pleasant experience. Morgana because she couldn't hear a word Arthur said, and Arthur because instead of talking back to him as she usually did Morgana just nodded and smiled. 

By the time Lady Helen's performance was due to begin Morgana was half convinced that her dream had been merely that, a dream. She was also considering taking to wearing earplugs whenever in Arthur's company. 

Then Lady Helen began her performance and it was exactly like Morgana's dream. She stood deaf and frozen as one by one the other members of the court fell into a slumber, and watched as the singer produced a lethal looking dagger from the folds of her dress. 

Morgana's interest was caught by something moving across the hall. It was Gwen trying to attract her attention. Morgana snapped out of her paralysis, picking up the first thing that came to hand from the table behind her, she stepped smartly forward and brought it down on the back of Helen's head. 

As the singer fell so did her disguise, by the time she hit the floor she was no longer Lady Helen but the old witch who'd threatened Arthur at the execution. Morgana didn't see this because she was still staring at the ladle she'd hit Helen with. 

Chaos broke out in the hall as people began waking up. Uther and Arthur were shouting, knights were drawing swords and servants were rushing this way and that. Gwen tumbled into Morgana and pulled her by the hand into an alcove off the main hall. She said something that Morgana couldn't hear, she couldn't hear what she was saying to Gwen either. 

She pulled the earplugs out. “What did you say?” asked Gwen, doing the same. 

“I said that I always wanted to hit someone with a ladle at one of these feasts.” 

Gwen laughed. It struck Morgana how rarely Gwen laughed, properly laughed, in Morgana's presence, it changed her from pretty to startlingly beautiful. 

Giddy with the thrill of taking out a murderous sorceress with a kitchen utensil Morgana swept Gwen into a hug and kissed her lips. Just briefly, not longer than was strictly appropriate between mistress and servant, but it took Gwen by surprise and there was a tiny frown on her face when Morgana pulled back. 

“I'm-” 

Just then Arthur appeared in the alcove and said, “Have you heard, it was Sir Gawain who killed the witch, he's telling everybody how he did it.” 

Morgana squeezed Gwen's hand hard enough that she winced, “Is he now?” 

*

Ever since she'd stopped taking Gaius's sleeping draught Morgana had found herself unable to sleep through the night. Sleep deprivation did not agree with her, and her general mood had not been improved by the feast which had been held in honour of Sir Gawain's slaying of the witch. 

“Slaying,” Morgana snorted disdainfully. “All he did was run her through with a sword after I'd knocked her unconscious.” 

“I think you've mentioned that once or twice before,” Gwen would never smirk at Morgana, but if she were going to now would be the time.

“Yes, well, if I have then you could at least refrain from pointing it out, Gwen.” 

“Yes, my lady,” maybe Gwen was smirking now. 

“And now everyone's talking about Gawain going up against Arthur in the tournament.” Gwen and Morgana were arm in arm on their way to the feast to welcome the knights of the realm to Camelot for the annual tournament. “The only way Gawain would stand a chance would be if I were to sneak up behind Arthur and hit him on the back of the head before their match.” 

“Which you're not going to do.” 

“Which, of course, I'm not going to do. However amusing the expression on Arthur's face might be.”

“Speaking of Arthur,” Gwen began nervously, “have you had any more dreams about him? I only ask because some mornings when I arrive your bed looks disarrayed. Not that it's any of my business what you do in bed. Oh, God, I can't believe I said that.” 

“Gwen, stop.” Morgana held up her hand to forestall Gwen's, no doubt lengthy, apology. “Yes, I've been having nightmares. The same one over and over again.” 

“Oh, have you talked to the You Know What?” Gwen looked furtively at the guards who were walking ahead of them, not wanting to be overheard talking about the Dragon. 

“No, I haven't talked to the You Know What. In the dream Arthur is bitten by a snake and whatever else our prince is, he is a grown man and I refuse to believe he needs protection from members of the animal kingdom.” 

They reached the doors to the throne room where a servant was waiting to announce Morgana's entrance. “I must go and be presented to the knights like a prize pony. How do I look?” 

Gwen reached out and smoothed back Morgana's hair. “You look beautiful.” 

“Yes, I was afraid you were going to say that." 

* 

Morgana was exhausted and bored. Gwen had gotten talking to some of the other servants so Morgana was stuck entertaining a knight from the Western Isles who, judging from the way she had to keep dodging his hands, went by the wholly inaccurate name of Valiant. 

“It would be an honour to escort you to the feast.” 

“Yes,” said Morgana distractedly, “I'm sure it would. Excuse me...” 

A few short weeks ago Morgana knew she would have enjoyed Knight Valiant's attentions but now there was something about him, something that made her skin crawl. Stupid Dragon, she couldn't even enjoy a bit of harmless flirting anymore.

“Lady Morgana,” said Gaius, approaching her. 

“Gaius,” greeted Morgana politely, even as her fingers curled tightly around her goblet, furious that this man who had been drugging her since childhood could speak to her so calmly. 

“How have you been sleeping, my lady?” 

“Fine,” replied Morgana, through gritted teeth. 

“Really? I had heard reports of you pacing the castle by night.” 

“I suppose,” admitted Morgana, seeing that she was backed into a corner, “that I'm having a little trouble sleeping.” 

“I'll drop some more sleeping draught in to your chambers.” 

“That would be...lovely.” 

* 

Gaius did indeed drop another vial of sleeping draught in that night. Morgana smiled coldly at the departing physician then raised the vial in her hand to hurl it against the wall. Gwen interceded and caught her wrist.

“Gwen, let me go,” Morgana ordered. 

“Morgana, I can't stop you from breaking this vial. I can't stop you from breaking every single thing in this room. But if you keep throwing your medicine against walls people will notice and ask why. I'd also like to begin my working day without having to sweep up broken glass from your floor.”

Morgana relaxed and let Gwen take the vial from her hand. Gwen took it to the window and poured out just a little, one dose's worth. 

“That can't be good for the flowers, you know.” 

“You're an expert on flowers now?” Gwen teased gently. 

“You're laughing at me.” 

“I wouldn't dream of it, my lady. I'll leave you to get some rest.” 

* 

That night Morgana dreamed again of the snake biting Arthur. But this time it wasn't a real snake. It was a rendering of a snake, like an artist would draw, like a knight would display on his tunic or on his shield. A shield that Morgana had seen at... 

She woke up just before it all clicked into place. 

* 

The next day Morgana put in her obligatory appearance at court, exchanged pleasantries with the king and enjoyed the black eye that Arthur gave Gawain during their tournament match. Afterwards she made her excuses and headed down to the armoury, she wanted to get a look at the knights' shields, she knew she'd seen one with a snake design. 

“Sir, excuse me,” Morgana heard Gwen's familiar voice and whipped round the corner to find Gwen backed up against the wall facing Valiant, who apparently had not managed to get any more well-mannered since last night. 

“What are you doing here?” Morgana demanded. 

“My lady, I-” 

“I was not talking to you, Gwen.” 

“I was merely speaking with this servant,” Valiant said. “I was enquiring as to her presence here.” 

For some reason Morgana bristled at hearing Valiant call Gwen a servant. “She is here at my instruction,” she lied.

“I see,” said Valiant, turning away from Gwen towards Morgana. “Does my lady perhaps want to participate in the tournament in secret? I have heard of women doing this, they never last beyond their first match.” 

Morgana looked at the intertwined snakes embroidered on Valiant's tunic, she chuckled. “If I were to compete in the tournament I would not need to use sorcery to help me.” Valiant looked taken aback and Morgana pressed her advantage. “Oh, I know all about you, _Knight_ Valiant, and shortly the king will know all about you too. He does not show kindness to those who seek to murder his son using magic.” 

For a moment Valiant looked as though he might strike Morgana then he changed his mind and pushed passed her, fleeing up the stairs. Morgana turned her anger on Gwen, “What are you doing down here?” 

“Arthur asked me to-” 

“Arthur! Are you Arthur's servant or mine?”

“I'm yours, my lady, you know that.” 

“Do I?” 

* 

After Valiant fled the kingdom Arthur emerged as the virtually unchallenged champion of the tournament.

“Is your maidservant not here tonight?” Arthur asked Morgana during the five minutes he was required to spend with her as her escort to the feast. 

“You are showing an unusual amount of interest in my maid. She spent yesterday morning in the armoury at your instruction, I understand.” 

“Yes, well, Morris is rubbish at the sort of thing.” 

“Maybe if you didn't amuse yourself by using him for target practice he wouldn't have such a phobia of the armoury.” 

“He's my servant, it's his duty. Anyway, Guinevere seems to be something of an expert with weapons and armour, she's clearly wasted brushing your hair. Are you sure you can't spare her?”

“I'm sure,” said Morgana, “she's invaluable to me.” 

“Shame." 

*

Gwen hadn't been required to work at the feast so Morgana found her in her chambers, straightening up a few things and waiting to help prepare her for bed. 

“I was talking to Arthur tonight, I think he would like to steal your services from me.” 

“Thank him from me but tell him that I like the job I have.” 

“Do you?” Morgana asked, genuinely curious. “I know I'm not the easiest person in the world to work for.” 

“No,” replied Gwen, unlacing the ties at the back of Morgana's dress. “But according to every servant he's ever had, neither is Arthur.”

Morgana's dress fell to the floor, she stepped out of it and waited for Gwen to put it away and return with her nightdress. “I'm a seer.” 

There was a moment of silence as Gwen pulled the nightdress over Morgana's head. “I know.”

“You could tell Uther about me. He'd reward you, I'm sure. You wouldn't be a servant anymore.” 

“I wouldn't tell anyone, ever.” 

“I know,” said Morgana, smiling over her shoulder at Gwen. “I told Arthur that you were invaluable to me.” 

* 

That night Morgana's dreams were of Gwen. In one she and Gwen were standing hand in hand on the road to Camelot defending the castle against all comers, in another Gwen was wearing a crown and Morgana took her chin in hand and kissed her lips and called her 'my queen.' 

In the last and most vivid dream Gwen was pale and sickly, tossing and turning while Morgana stood over her with a sword in hand. 

* 

Morgana had gotten used to the fact that Uther and Arthur tried to keep the more unpleasant things that happened in the kingdom from her. But it was still a surprise when she walked into Gaius's chambers to find a dead body covered with a sheet on the table. It was more of a surprise to discover that this was the latest victim of the plague that was sweeping through the town.

“I didn't know.” 

“I'm searching for a cure,” said Gaius, “so far it seems contained to the lower town.”

Hurrying out of Gaius's chambers Morgana was halfway home when she was intercepted by a guard. “A message for you, my lady, it was sent up from the town.” 

Morgana didn't know many people outside the castle walls so she assumed the message was from Gwen. 

“From Tom the blacksmith, my lady,” the guard corrected her.

*

By the time Morgana made her way down to the lower town Tom was frantic, pacing up and down in front of his house. 

“Lady Morgana! I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to contact. Everyone is saying that anyone who contracts this disease dies within a day.” 

“Let me see her,” Morgana ordered. Tom led her into the small house. Gwen was lying on the narrow bed, pale and sweating. She looked exactly like she had in Morgana's dream. 

“Can you help her?” Tom asked. 

“Yes,” Morgana turned away from Gwen. Outside the house she could see some of the guards of Camelot marching through the town, no doubt sent by Uther to return her to the castle. She waited until they were within shouting distance, “There is a sick woman in this house. Carry her up to the castle and put her in my chambers. Inform the court physician that it is his duty to treat her.”

* 

Gwen didn't look any less sick in Morgana's bed than she had in her own. 

“Can you cure her?” Morgana demanded of Gaius. 

“It's not that simple, this is a magical ailment and there is only so much that science can do for it. Morgana, speaking to the king will do no good...”

Morgana pushed past Gaius, if he wanted to think she was going to the king so be it. She rushed from her chambers down past the dungeons, barely stopping to light a torch on her way down to the Dragon's cave. 

“Hey! Hey! I'm happy to stand down here and shout all day. Hey!” 

“You wanted my attention, young seer,” the Dragon fluttered down onto its rock, in so much as a ten ton lizard could flutter.

“There's a plague in Camelot.” 

“Has it affected Arthur?” 

“What? No. People are sick, they're dying, it doesn't matter whether or not it affects the future king.” 

The Dragon yawned. “And you have no personal stake in this illness, I suppose.” 

“My maid Gwen, Guinevere, she's sick.” 

“The future queen is infected?” Before Morgana could react to that, the Dragon carried on, “There's an Afanc in the water supply, if you kill it the plague will end.” 

“How am I supposed to kill it?” 

“You're the seer,” said the Dragon, “I'm sure something will come to you.” 

“And what would you have me do, dream at the Afanc until it stops tormenting the kingdom?” 

“It is a magical creature, it can be killed with sorcery.” 

“Except you don't have a sorcerer, you have me.” 

The Dragon snorted flames in frustration. “A weapon forged in the flame of a Dragon will slay any foe.” 

* 

“My lady...” 

“I'm sorry, Tom, there's no news of Gwen yet. I've come for a favour.” 

“A favour?” 

“I need a sword. I can't explain how but it will help Gwen, I promise.” 

Tom disappeared into the house and reappeared with a sword wrapped in cloth. “This is the finest sword I ever forged, I do not know how it will help Gwen-”

“It will, Tom, I promise.” 

* 

Morgana held the sword out. “A weapon forged in the flame of a Dragon. I'm waiting...” 

“And what will you do with this weapon once I've created it?” 

Morgana had not been blessed with a vast amount of patience and it was swiftly running out. “Kill the Afanc, save Gwen, protect Arthur, unite Albion, etcetera, etcetera. We've been through all this before.” 

She was surprised, after the Dragon had breathed fire on it, that the sword was cool to the touch. 

“I thought you were in a rush,” observed the Dragon.

*

“Why are you holding a sword behind your back?” Arthur asked, stumbling across Morgana as she attempted to sneak back to her chambers from the underground reservoir. 

You learn something new every day, today Morgana had learned two things. The first was that a weapon forged in the fire of a Dragon really would kill anything, as evidenced by the fact that one lucky strike had dispatched the six-foot tall clay monster that had been poisoning the water supply. The second was that it was really not possible to conceal a full-length sword in the folds of her dress. 

“Because I don't have a belt to carry it on,” said Morgana as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why are you wet and covered in mud?” 

“Oh, some of that's clay.” 

“You're a very strange woman, Morgana,” said Arthur, “_and_ you've got clay in your hair.”

On her way back to her chambers Morgana was waylaid by Gaius, who either knew about the Afanc or merely had the common sense not to comment on her bedraggled appearance. He informed her that Gwen was beginning to recover. 

“I'll arrange to have her moved from your chambers.” 

“No, Gaius, she should stay where she is until she is more fully recovered. Although if you would arrange for her father to be informed that she will live.” 

“Of course, my lady. Oh, and Morgana...” 

“Yes?”

“Before you see the king you should perhaps do something about whatever that is in your hair.” 

“It's _clay._” 

“Of course it is, my lady.” 

Gwen was still asleep when Morgana arrived. She didn't look completely healthy yet, but she'd lost this morning's grey-green pallor and she was breathing more evenly. Morgana sat next to her on the bed and reached out to stroke her cheek. “You're the next queen of Camelot, huh?” 

Gwen stirred at the sound of Morgana's voice and her eyes opened a little, “Morgana?” 

“Hi,” Gwen made an effort to sit up. “Hush, don't move. You've been ill. Gaius has been caring for you at the castle.” 

Gwen blinked, “Morgana, do you know that there's clay in your hair?” 

Morgana smiled and breathed out for what felt like the first time since she'd received Tom's message. “It's been mentioned once or twice, yes. Get some rest,” she kissed Gwen's cheek and stroked her hair until she fell asleep.

*

The kitchen maid who came to deliver Morgana's evening meal was treated to the sight of the lady sitting in front of the mirror, still damp from her bath, combing out her own hair while her maid sat up in her mistress's bed, examining a sword.

“Put it down on the table,” said Morgana pointedly. Just before departing the maid saw Morgana stand and pour a glass of wine for Gwen. 

“People are going to talk,” said Gwen. 

“Yes, they're going to say what a wonderful mistress I am for looking after you so well.” 

Gwen lifted the sword again, “This will really kill anything, even magical creatures?” 

“So the Dragon tells me. A magic sword and nightmares that come true, what more could a girl want?”

“I think you enjoyed it, really.” 

Morgana's smile vanished, “I thought you were going to die!” 

Gwen looked down guiltily, “I'm sorry I worried you, my lady.” 

“God, Gwen, stop apologising. It isn't as though you took ill on purpose.” 

“I'm sorry, I-” Gwen broke off and laughed, even Morgana smiled slightly. “I just meant that after years of complaining about Arthur always getting to be the hero you got to fight the monster and save the day.” 

“I got soaked to the skin, I ruined a perfectly lovely dress, I broke a fingernail, I got clay in my hair. And I can't even tell anyone about it!” 

“You can tell me,” said Gwen. 

“So I can,” Morgana picked up the pitcher of wine and another glass from the table, sat on the bed next to Gwen and smoothed down her skirt. “Did I mention it was about six feet tall?” 

* 

Gwen thought that she should go home. Or at least to the servants' quarters. 

“I've told you, Gwen, you're staying here until you're completely recovered.” 

“Morgana, I'm not going to put you out of your own bed.” 

Morgana frowned, “I wasn't intending to be put out of it, there's more than enough room.” 

Gwen blushed scarlet. “What?” asked Morgana, “I'm hardly about to sleep in the servants' quarters.”

* 

_Morgana._ 

Morgana sat bolt upright in bed. Gwen stirred but didn't wake. 

_Morgana._ 

She rolled her eyes; she'd really thought the Dragon was through with the middle of the night summonses. She threw on her dressing gown as quietly as possible and was nearly out the door when- 

_Bring the sword._ 

Oh, good, because sneaking through the castle in the dead of night clutching a sword looked so much less suspicious.

She arrived in the cave with the sword in one hand and a torch in another. “It's not that I don't enjoy these little talks of ours, but one of these days I would like to sleep through the night.”

“The sword proved satisfactory?” 

“Yes.” Then, because whether she liked it or not the Dragon had probably saved her life today, and had certainly saved Gwen's, she added, “Thank you.” 

“The sword is destined for Arthur, but not yet. I cannot risk it falling into the wrong hands.”

“Mine being the wrong hands?” Morgana's tone would have sent shivers down the spine of anyone who wasn't a giant fire-breathing Dragon. 

“Your destiny is already changing, but even I do not know what you will become.” 

“What I will... After everything I've done for you!” 

“You have done nothing for me,” said the Dragon. “What you have done, you have done for Arthur. And for Guinevere.” 

“What do you want me to do with the sword?”

“Hide it. Somewhere it will not be found until the right time.” 

“I will,” Morgana promised. 

Back in her chambers Morgana hid the sword at the back of her wardrobe behind dresses she hadn't worn in years. 

She then hung up her dressing gown and slipped back into bed next to Gwen, who rolled over and wrapped an arm around Morgana.

* 

“The silver necklace goes better with that dress,” said Gwen. Morgana had forbidden her to come back to work until Gaius declared her completely healthy, so she was offering suggestions from the chair by the window. “Morgana, I really do feel fine.” 

“I'll believe that when the court physician tells me so.” 

“You wouldn't let Gaius in earlier.” 

“I wasn't decent. This necklace, you think?” Morgana held up a silver necklace which nicely set off her blue dress.

“Yes. I should be at the feast, I'm supposed to be working.” 

“Then look on this as a good excuse to get out of it. Bayard will make an incredibly long and boring speech, Uther will make an equally boring but mercifully shorter speech and Arthur will get drunk and paw the serving girls.” 

“It must be so nice to see the future,” Gwen teased. 

“Yes, it is.” 

But Gwen wasn't about to be put off so easily. “Even if you won't have me back to work I shouldn't be staying here. You looking after me, it's not right.” 

“It's an eccentricity. I'm a noblewoman, I'm entitled to one eccentricity.” 

“And I'm going to be your eccentricity?” 

“You and conversing with the talking lizard under the castle, yes.” 

Morgana kissed Gwen's cheek on her way out. She was growing quite fond of her eccentricity.

* 

Morgana had been quite correct in her predictions for the evening. Bayard's speech went on until Morgana was unsure if there had ever been a time in her life before he was talking. She almost wished that the Dragon would start shouting in her head just to give her something else to concentrate on.

She found herself looking at Arthur, she'd been right about him too. Morris was standing behind him refilling his goblet every few moments and he was already looking around for promising serving girls. 

Ever since Morgana had come to Camelot as a child she had assumed she and Arthur would be married off to one another one day. It wasn't a prospect she had particularly looked forward to, nor one she had particularly dreaded. She had expected there would be a ceremony, that she and Arthur would overcome their sibling-like distaste for one another long enough to produce an heir before retiring to live in separate wings of the castle and never speaking of it again. 

She was now sure that the Dragon had been telling the truth when it'd told her Arthur was destined to marry Gwen. She didn't doubt that the Dragon would lie through its teeth if that's what it took to get Morgana to do what it wanted, but she had seen as much in her own dreams. 

She wasn't upset, at least not on Arthur's account. More than anything she was vaguely annoyed with him. He was a good warrior and one day he'd make a great king (not that Morgana would ever say so to his face) but if he was going to marry Gwen he was going to have to be less of a...well, less of a prat.

Bayard's interminable speech ended. Everyone applauded. Then Uther started speaking and Morgana started wishing someone would try to kill Arthur just so she could stop them. 

*

“I told you it would be boring,” Morgana said, back in her chambers and letting her hair down for the evening. “But at least now there's peace between Camelot and Mercia.” 

“That is good,” said Gwen. “I went to see Gaius while you were at the feast. I've been pronounced perfectly healthy.” Morgana got into bed, Gwen extinguished the last of the candles and slid in beside her. “So I'm going home tomorrow, before my father begins to think you're holding me hostage.” 

“I could, you know,” said Morgana, stifling a yawn. 

“Go to sleep,” said Gwen, pressing a kiss to Morgana's forehead and rolling over. 

“Yes, dear.”

* 

“Morgana?” 

Morgana groaned and rolled over. 

“Morgana?” 

“I'm tired,” Morgana said without opening her eyes, “and I'm not coming all the way down to the cave to talk to you.” 

“Morgana, open your eyes.” 

As she floated closer to consciousness it occurred to Morgana that unless the Dragon had decided, for its own mysterious reasons, to affect the voice of a young woman it probably wasn't the Dragon she was talking to. She snapped completely awake to see a woman with long brown hair perching on the side of the bed next to Gwen. 

“She's very beautiful, isn't she?” the woman reached out to trace Gwen's jaw with a fingernail. 

“Don't,” Morgana hissed, grabbing the woman's wrist and pulling her hand away.

“You don't have to keep your voice down, she won't wake.” The woman seemed to lose interest in Gwen, she focused completely on Morgana. “Lady Morgana, I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.” 

“Who are you?” Morgana demanded. 

“My name is Nimueh. Ask Uther about me. On second thought, don't.”

Morgana looked from the woman to the wardrobe where the sword was hidden. Nimueh laughed, “A sword? Oh, Morgana, you don't even know what you are.” 

“I'm a seer.” 

“Among other things,” she looked at Morgana and laughed. “Oh, I can see why the Great Dragon does not like having to rely on you. You could still go either way.”

“What does that mean?” 

“We'll speak again, Morgana. You and I could be of great assistance to one another,” Nimueh said and vanished.

Gwen, who'd remained motionless throughout Nimueh's visit yawned and stretched. Morgana leaned back against the pillows, thinking that her dreams were getting stranger every night. 

* 

The first night that Morgana slept alone again was also the night that she began having screaming nightmares about a winged monster tearing Arthur limb from limb. She was tempted to ask Gwen to return, but decided it was probably inappropriate to demand her maidservant share her bed because she couldn't cope with a few bad dreams. 

“It was a shame,” said Gwen. They'd spent the morning listening to petitioners to the court. Actually, Uther had spent the morning listening to petitioners, Morgana had barely slept for a few nights now and was having trouble keeping her eyes open. 

“What was?” 

“That man, the one who wanted to become a knight and the king wouldn't even let him try out because he wasn't a nobleman.” 

“Oh, yes.” Morgana frowned, “What was his name, Lancet?” 

“Lancelot, I think.”

“Those are the king's rules.” 

“Morgana, is everything okay? You just passed up an opportunity to criticise one of the king's laws.”

“Sorry, Gwen, I haven't been sleeping well. Nightmares, you know.”

Gwen caught Morgana's hand and pulled her into a quiet corridor. “Nightmares or visions?”

“A vision. Of some sort of winged creature, like a cross between a lion and an eagle.” 

“That sounds a lot like a griffin,” said Gwen. 

“A griffin?” 

Gwen blushed, “When I was little my dad used to tell me stories about mythical creatures to help me go to sleep.”

“And that helped you fall asleep?” 

“Not really, I had bad dreams. I never liked to tell him. What happened in your dream?” 

“The griffin killed Arthur, it was horrible.”

“Have you told the Dragon yet?” 

“Why, do you think the Dragon would like to go and fight the griffin? No, anyway I don't think it can be happening soon, we'd have heard about a flying monster terrorising the kingdom.” 

* 

That night at dinner Morgana heard about a flying monster terrorising the kingdom. It had destroyed two villages on the southern border of Camelot and had been spotted making its way towards the castle. 

Morgana was aware of the blood draining from her face. Uther saw it and placed a comforting arm around her, “There's nothing to worry about, Morgana. Arthur and his knights are riding out to meet the creature already.” 

“How... reassuring.” 

*

Gwen arrived in Morgana's chambers to find her dressed in her riding outfit and dragging the sword out from the back of the wardrobe. 

“What are we going to do?” 

Morgana turned, sword in hand. “I thought I'd do some light embroidery this evening. How about you?”

“Morgana...” 

“I should be able to catch up with Arthur before morning.” 

“And then what?” 

“I don't know, okay?!”

Gwen walked up to Morgana and reached out to her, stopping just short of touching her face. “Then don't go.” 

“Gwen, if I don't go Arthur will die. I've seen it, he'll be torn to bits.” 

“This isn't like the other times. It isn't striking someone on the head when they aren't looking or scaring off a visiting knight. This thing has taken out entire villages.”

“I know, I've seen it, every night.” Morgana took hold of Gwen's hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “I'll be careful.”

“I'm coming with you.” 

“No you are not.” 

“I either come with you or I stay here and attempt to explain to Uther how you came to run off and get yourself killed. Frankly, I think I'm safer with the griffin.” 

Morgana smiled weakly. “Very well, but we have to hurry.” 

“We have to stop at my house quickly.” 

“Oh, alright.”

* 

Gwen's father was asleep in one room of his two-room house. Gwen and Morgana were in the other room, bathed in the light of a single candle. Gwen was holding a bundle wrapped in cloth. 

“It's just,” she began nervously, “something I've been working on since I was ill. You went off to fight the Afanc, and I know that you were fine that time, and I know you've got the enchanted sword, but you could have been really hurt and I worry about you and I just thought...” she trailed off and pushed the bundle into Morgana's arms. 

Morgana opened it and looked up at Gwen with a grin splitting her face. “It's chain mail,” said Morgana, examining the silver shirt. “Gwen, it's beautiful.” 

“It's thinner and lighter than normal mail so you can move more easily,” said Gwen, blushing. “But it should help keep you safe. That's all I want, for you to be safe.” 

“Oh, Gwen-” 

“There are trousers in there as well. Easier if you have to fight.” 

Morgana cast off her cloak and began to strip out of her dress. “Help me change,” she instructed Gwen.

Gwen seemed to blush in the dim light, she fidgeted as though she'd like to turn her back on Morgana who was by now down to her underthings. “Not embarrassed are you, Gwen? You see me undressed every day.” 

“That's different, my lady. That's my job, this is my house.” 

“You haven't called me that in an age,” said Morgana, her voice slightly muffled by the mail shirt she was pulling over her head. “Not since this nonsense began, almost.” 

“I'm sorry if I've been inappropriate.” 

“Don't apologise,” Morgana fastened the black trousers and slid her feet back into her shoes. “I've liked it.” She looked at Gwen, “You don't have anything more suitable to traipsing through forests to wear, do you?” 

“Some old clothes I used to wear in the forge.” 

“Good,” Morgana walked up to Gwen and without fanfare began unlacing the ties of her dress. Gwen stopped her by catching her hands and saying firmly, “My lady, you shouldn't-” 

Morgana interrupted, “Gwen, you and I are already quite far outside the traditional mistress and servant relationship, don't you think?” 

Gwen relented and allowed Morgana to help her change into an old shirt and trousers that she used to wear when helping her father in the forge. “You're very beautiful,” said Morgana. 

“I don't really know what to say to that.” 

“Traditionally one receives a compliment by saying thank you.” 

“Then, thank you.”

* 

Twelve men on horseback carrying half of Camelot's armaments with them were not difficult to track and Morgana and Gwen would have caught up with Arthur in the morning, if not for the fact that about an hour before dawn they caught up with the griffin first. 

“It's got wings,” hissed Gwen, clutching Morgana's arm nearly hard enough to dent her chain mail. 

“I see that,” Morgana hadn't actually noticed the wings. She was more immediately concerned with the talons and cruelly curved beak. 

“And a tail.” 

“Yes. And one of those.” 

The griffin's beak was to the ground, it was sniffing along the track that Arthur and the others must have taken earlier. “What are we going to do?”

Morgana had had a vague idea about sneaking up on the griffin (if it happened to be asleep at the time then that would be fine too) and stabbing it with the sword. Looking at it now, it was nearly the size of the Dragon, and unlike the Dragon it wasn't chained to something immovable. Morgana's sword suddenly looked rather unimpressive. Why couldn't the Dragon have given her a magic lance, or a magic crossbow for that matter? 

“I'll have to try and get close to it.” 

“How?”

“Quietly and without it noticing me I hope.” 

“I could try and cause a diversion,” Gwen had the common sense not to sound especially enthusiastic about the idea. 

“Gwen, no!” Morgana hissed, not quietly enough because the griffin's head snapped around to where they were hiding among a cluster of trees. It reared up and began galloping towards them. “Run!” Morgana gave Gwen a shove and ignored every cell in her body which was telling her to run too. 

She stood her ground and raised the sword. She was going to die, a treacherous voice in the back of her mind informed her, the voice sounded a lot like Arthur. She was going to die and be held up as an example of what happened to women who got ideas above their stations. 

The griffin jumped and Morgana thrust the sword upwards, and missed. The sword was knocked from her hand and went flying and she was thrown against a tree. The creature landed, turned and leapt for her. 

Morgana heard Gwen scream her name, screwed her eyes shut and held her arm up to protect her face. She had heard the knights say that your life flashed before your eyes when you were about to die and Morgana's life was flashing before hers now. When she'd reached adolescence and still hadn't been disembowelled she opened her eyes. 

“Oh.” The griffin was frozen in mid air before Morgana's outstretched hand. It did not look pleased by this turn of events.

“Are you...” Gwen had stopped a little way away. “Are you doing that?” 

“I think so,” Morgana had the sinking feeling that if she turned away the griffin would be released. “Gwen, could you do me a favour and bring the sword over here?”

Gwen hurried to where the sword had been thrown and brought it over to Morgana, who was gingerly getting to her feet. “How are you doing that? I mean, magic obviously, but _how_ are you doing that?”

“I don't know, but I do think that it's important that I concentrate.”

“Right, what can I do?” 

“Take the sword and stab the griffin.” Gwen looked unimpressed. “It's perfectly safe, I hope.” 

Gwen didn't look at all comfortable holding the sword but she stepped forward anyway. Morgana tried to look perfectly calm and confident while all the time frantically thinking, 'don't move, don't move, please don't move.' Gwen thrust the sword upwards and only just managed to dodge out of the way as the creature plummeted to the ground and didn't move. 

Morgana nudged it with her toe. “Dead,” she proclaimed, exhaling for what felt like the first time in an hour. “It's dead.” 

Gwen pulled Morgana towards her and kissed her soundly. She pulled back and ran her hands over Morgana's body, searching for injuries. 

“Gwen, Gwen, I'm okay, I'm...” and to prove it she took Gwen's face in her hands and kissed her again. It was definitely not the sort of kiss that you were meant to give your maidservant and it was much better for it. Gwen seemed to be enjoying it too, holding Morgana close. 

And then Morgana heard very nearly the last thing in the world that she wanted to hear in this situation: Arthur's voice. 

“No, I heard something moving in this clearing.” 

Gwen and Morgana broke apart. Gwen looked like a startled deer, Morgana took her hand and pulled her into the cover of a thicket just before and Arthur and his knights blundered into the clearing.

Between kisses they tried to smother each other's giggles and listened to Arthur and his men try to work out what had happened.

*

“Stay,” said Morgana. She was a noblewoman of the court and the ward of the king and as such she did not beg, but there was a slight whine in her voice as she kissed Gwen on the patch of soft skin just underneath her ear (where the last few days of extensive experimentation had revealed she loved to be kissed) and said, “Stay.”

“I can't sleep in your chambers every night, Morgana. People will talk.” 

“You did before,” Morgana didn't pout, much in the same manner as she didn't beg. “You lived here for a week.” 

“I was ill then.” 

“I'll tell people that you're ill again. I'll have Gaius pronounce you ill,” she declared melodramatically. “I like sleeping beside you.”

“I never would have suspected you of being the sentimental type, Morgana.” 

“Only with you,” replied Morgana honestly. 

Gwen kissed her briefly, pulling away before Morgana could take advantage of the situation. “Good night, sleep well.” 

Despite her protestations Morgana went to bed in an excellent mood. She was still shocked and thrilled at what she'd managed to do to the griffin, and Arthur's bemusement at the turn of events was hilarious. And Gwen, she'd always loved Gwen, of course, but now it was different. She was even feeling reasonably good humoured towards the Dragon. Until-

_Morgana. _

“What?!”

_Morgana._ 

One of these days Morgana was going to ask the Dragon why, if it could speak directly into her mind, did she have to sneak down to its cave whenever it wanted a word? In fact that was the first thing she asked when she arrived. 

It ignored her completely and said, “Do not accept flowers from strange men.” 

On her way back to bed she decided that the Dragon had ridden straight past cryptic to arrive at utterly crazy. She might even have been able to summon up some sympathy for it had she been better rested.

* 

Gwen arrived the next morning to find Morgana standing in the middle of the room glaring murderously at a chair. “What has the chair ever done to you?” 

“It won't move.” 

“I wouldn't expect it to. At least not under its own power.”

“I don't think you're allowed to make fun of me.” 

“And I think we're beyond you telling me what I can and can't do,” but Gwen said it with a smile and set about straightening Morgana's chambers, including returning the chair to its correct position. “Are you trying to move it with magic, like you did with the griffin?” 

“Exactly so. I don't understand why it isn't working. As you said, it worked on the griffin, which was a homicidal mythical being, and this is only a chair.” 

“Maybe that's the difference,” suggested Gwen, “perhaps you need to be afraid for your life. If you like I could try and find you a more menacing-looking piece of furniture from somewhere else in the castle?” 

“No, thank you.” It was only then that Morgana noted the elaborate bouquet of flowers that Gwen had left on the nightstand when she entered. “Those are beautiful.” 

“They are. Although should I be worried about having a rival for your affections?” 

“They're not from you?” 

“They are a little beyond my pay scale, Morgana.” 

“Well, we must see about getting you a raise.”

“They were handed in at the main gate this morning.” 

Morgana looked at the flowers, they were very beautiful, but the Dragon had said... She stared at the flowers willing them to fly off the table, they didn't move. “Throw them out, would you?” she requested. 

* 

Arthur smiled at her when she arrived for supper that evening. “Morgana, not feeling ill at all?” 

“I'm the picture of health. Your concern, Arthur, is most... uncharacteristic.” 

“I'm sure you meant appreciated.” 

“I'm sure.” 

Uther interrupted them. “Arthur was approached by a physician by the name of Edwin in the town today, who had heard that you were gravely ill. Apparently at death's door, and that he alone could cure you.” 

“For a small fee, of course,” concluded Morgana. 

“Of course. But Arthur came racing back up to the castle to ensure your good health.” 

Arthur blushed bright red and muttered, “I did not race.”

* 

“Arthur!” Morgana woke screaming Arthur's name. Her scream woke Gwen, who she'd been able to convince for once to stay the night. Gwen stroked Morgana's hair and made soothing noises until she'd calmed a little. Not for the first time it struck Morgana how good and patient Gwen was. Most people would be a touch irate if their lover woke them up by screaming someone else's name.

“This is why you don't like sleeping here all the time, isn't it?” 

“This, and the fact that your hair gets everywhere,” Gwen teased. “What did you see?” 

“A woman,” Morgana tried to remember, “I didn't recognise her. She was drowning Arthur.”

“That's awful.” 

“I know. I've been living in the same castle as Arthur since childhood, if anyone gets to drown him then it's going to be me.” Morgana wasn't sure exactly when she'd become so blasé about dreaming of Arthur's untimely demise, but there was something about being able to act, together with Gwen, to change the future that made the nightmares easier to live with.

“You don't mean that,” said Gwen and yawned. 

“Of course I don't mean that,” said Morgana, pulling the bedclothes over them. “I'm sorry I woke you.” The rest of their night was thankfully uninterrupted.

* 

The next morning they both overslept. Morgana blamed Gwen for not waking her, Gwen blamed Morgana for disturbing her throughout the night, Morgana wanted to know why Gwen had been lying on her hair when she woke up, Gwen apologised but said that there really was rather a lot of it and it wasn't _that_ big a bed. 

Long story short, by the time they were done with the bickering and the making up, then washing and dressing it was nearing noon when Morgana put in an appearance at court to find herself faced with the woman from her dream. 

Sophia Tirmawr, who Arthur had apparently rescued from bandits while on a hunting trip this morning. Her father had been killed before Arthur could see the assailants off. She didn't look as though she was grieving for a parent, she also didn't look like she wanted to drown mostly innocent princes. Things were so rarely what they seemed these days. 

“My lord!” Morgana exclaimed when Uther extended Camelot's hospitality to their visitor. 

“You have some objection, Morgana?” Uther asked. 

She weighed her options, there was no way to say 'I saw her drown your son in a dream' without sounding crazy, and no way to say 'I don't like the way she looks at Arthur' without sounding like a jilted lover.

“No, my lord.” 

“Good. Then I'm sure you will be happy to show Sophia around the castle and its grounds.” 

“More than happy, my lord,” Morgana said through gritted teeth.

* 

“Arthur's very handsome, isn't he?” Sophia observed in that simpering tone of hers which seemed perfectly pitched to grate on Morgana's nerves. She'd never liked women who simpered. 

“I suppose,” she replied non-committally. 

“And very brave.” 

“I'm fully aware of Arthur's finer qualities, Sophia, but I'm not interested in discussing them with you.”

“It's fortunate that you don't have designs on the prince yourself, I'd hate to disappoint you but Arthur is destined for me.” 

It was fortunate that they were in a secluded part of the gardens and there was nobody around to see Morgana grab Sophia by the throat. “If you hurt him, I'll-” 

“You'll do nothing,” said Sophia, her eyes flashing an unnatural colour. “You have no idea who I am.” 

Morgana felt like she had the night she'd stopped the griffin, as though she could strangle Sophia without tightening her grip. “No, you have no idea who I am.”

Just then the guards who'd been following at a discrete distance rounded the corner. Morgana released Sophia and stepped back, loudly she said, “I think that's all for the tour.” Under her breath she hissed, “Stay away from Arthur,” before striding away. 

“But can you keep Arthur away for me?” Sophia called after her.

* 

That was the first thing Morgana tried.

“You're jealous,” said Arthur, after Morgana had spent most of the morning trying to convince him to stay as far away from Sophia as possible. 

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“Not of me, of Sophia. You're used to being the only woman at court and now Sophia's here; she's taking attention away from you.” 

“There are about twelve women at court.”

“The only young and beau-” Arthur cut himself short, “not physically repulsive woman at court.”

Morgana tossed her hair over her shoulder and tried to think of something cutting to say to refute Arthur's theory. “She's not that beautiful,” she said, unfortunately it came out more whiney than cutting. 

“While it's always entertaining to listen to you lose your tenuous grip on reality, Morgana, I'm late to take Sophia riding and I must change.” 

Morgana stood her ground and she and Arthur started at each other until Arthur stripped off his jacket and made to lift his tunic over his head and Morgana relented, “Alright, I'm going. But promise me that you'll stay away from lakes while you're with Sophia. And streams, and deep puddles.” 

“Get out.” 

“Oh, and wear your brown coat, the one that makes you look like a peasant.”

“Out!”

* 

“And then Arthur said that I was jealous because Sophia is attractive.” Morgana and Gwen were lying fully clothed on Morgana's bed discussing possible ways of keeping Arthur safe from Sophia but Morgana had quickly gotten off topic, “How ridiculous.” 

“I know. You're much more beautiful than Sophia.” 

Morgana beamed and kissed Gwen. “Not,” she said, pulling back, “that that's the point.” She shifted until she was reclining against Gwen who began stroking her hair, something that Morgana found immensely relaxing. 

“Of course not. What are we going to do about Sophia?” 

“I've already warned her off Arthur. But as Uther's declared that she can stay in the castle as long as she wishes, I'll just have to keep a close eye on them both.”

* 

Obviously Morgana didn't keep a close enough eye on Arthur because a few days later he announced his engagement to Sophia. 

“She's enchanted him,” declared Morgana as she paced her chambers in a foul mood.

“Are you sure?” Gwen asked. “I mean we know she's evil, but Arthur's not a seer, maybe he really does want to marry her.” 

“He doesn't. Believe me, I know him. When King Lot brought his daughter to Camelot to discuss the possibility of marriage Arthur spent the entire feast hiding under the table. He kept getting me to pass him down plates of food.” 

“Wasn't he twelve then?” 

“Yes. But we're talking about Arthur, mentally he's still twelve. And the day that she arrived I think that Sophia tried to use magic against me.” 

“Why didn't you tell the king? He would have sent her away, or...” 

“It was nothing, really. Her eyes flashed, changed colour. I used to dream about a warlock who could do magic the same way. Anyway,” Morgana shrugged, “the king has forbidden the marriage so hopefully that will be the end of the matter.” 

“If you're sure,” Gwen sounded unconvinced. 

“What?” 

“If she's enchanted Arthur to love her is there any reason she couldn't enchant Uther to give them his blessing?” 

Morgana hurried to the door with the intention of going to see the king immediately. She threw the door open to find Arthur's manservant, Morris, standing there timidly holding his hand up to knock. 

“Arthur's gone,” he squeaked. 

“Gone where?” Morgana demanded. 

Morris looked at her, swallowed audibly and then looked past her and spoke to Gwen. “He's eloped, with Sophia. And he told me not to tell anyone. The king is going to kill me. Help me,” the last part was barely a whisper. 

Morgana pushed him into a wall in her hurry to get out the door. Gwen, being more level headed, went to the wardrobe to retrieve the sword. 

“What's that?” Morris asked. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that it's a magic sword that Lady Morgana has been hiding at the back of her wardrobe for months?” 

Morris assessed his options, “Er, no.” 

“Good. Don't say anything to the king, we'll get Arthur back.” 

* 

As it turned out they didn't need the sword. When they caught up with her at the lake Sophia was standing waist deep in the water, she was surrounded by some kind of magical light, she was shouting, begging. There was no sign of Arthur.

“You must let me back into Avalon. Please, I beg of you, my father is dead, his crime was not mine. No, no, please. I brought you a prince, take his soul, please-” Sophia broke off with a tortured scream. 

“Help her,” Gwen pleaded. “Morgana, do something.”

Despite herself Morgana waded out into the water, but before she could reach Sophia the magical light rushed inwards, her scream reached fever pitch and she vanished. 

Morgana tripped over something on the bottom of the lake which dunked her entirely underwater. Lucky it did, because it was Prince Arthur in full armour. 

“Gwen, it's Arthur!” Morgana screamed, when she broke the surface. “Help me get him out.” 

*

By the time Arthur spluttered up some muddy water and began to wake up Morgana was sitting on one side of him ringing out her hair and Gwen was sitting on the other pouring water out of her shoes. 

“Good morning, sire,” she said cheerfully. 

“Morning, Arthur.” 

“Morgana? Wha- Why am I wet?” 

“You went for a swim.” 

Arthur propped himself on his elbows causing a good deal of the lake to slosh out of his armour. “In my armour?” 

“Seemingly so,” said Morgana, matter-of-factly. 

“Why are you wet?” 

“I went for a swim too.” 

Arthur looked between them, “Why is Guinevere wet?” 

“Now, Arthur, is that really an appropriate question to ask?” 

“We came after you, sire,” said Gwen kindly. “You were upset about Sophia.” 

“Yes, upset,” agreed Morgana, “especially after Sophia jilted you at the altar.” 

Gwen sent a reprimanding look at Morgana over Arthur's head. “Altar!” Arthur exclaimed, shooting upright and causing yet more water to pour out of his armour. “I wanted to marry her, what was wrong with me?” 

“Too many blows to the head,” Morgana said to no one in particular. 

“No one can ever know about this,” Arthur said seriously. 

“We won't tell anyone, sire,” Gwen promised. She meant it too, it was hardly her fault that Morgana spent the next week cheerfully telling anyone who'd listen that Prince Arthur had eloped with a visiting noblewoman only to limp back the next day, unmarried and looking like a drowned cat in rusty armour. 

* 

For several weeks Morgana's nights had been untroubled. Her dreams once again turned to the young warlock, Merlin. She watched him journey peacefully south towards his home village. It must be nice not to spend your days running around after a prince with a death wish. 

But as Morgana hadn't had any visions of Arthur's imminent death she declared it a day off and she and Gwen went walking in the woods, they found a clearing and Morgana dozed in the shade of a tree while Gwen picked flowers. When she woke she found Gwen kneeling before her. 

“Gwen?” 

“I'm sorry,” Gwen said, blushing, “I'm just not used to seeing you sleep peacefully. It's very... you're very beautiful.”

Morgana smiled and reached out to pluck one of the flowers Gwen was holding, she tucked it behind Gwen's ear. “As are you. Your future husband will be a very lucky man.” 

Gwen rocked back on her heels and couldn't meet Morgana's eyes. “I-” 

“No,” Morgana reached out and caught Gwen's hands, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it.” 

“I'm not a fool. I know what we have can't last forever, you have to marry Arthur and I-” 

Morgana pulled Gwen off balance, down on top of her and kissed her desperately. “I love you. Whatever else happens always remember that I love you before all others.”

“I love you too.” 

There was time for more declarations of undying love as they'd both foolishly chosen to wear dresses with complicated fastenings that took a while to undo. Still, it was worth the wait.

* 

_MORGANA! HELP ME!_

She woke up terrified, breathing heavily. It wasn't the Dragon, it sounded like a child's voice. There was something else that could speak directly into her mind. It took her a moment to remember that she was perfectly safe. She was lying underneath a cloak with the woman she loved in a sunny clearing, in a kingdom that was perfectly safe, partially due to her. But the echoes of the voice took a few moments to fade.

She was loath to wake Gwen, who was still sleeping peacefully, but they had to get back to Camelot.

“Gwen!” she said sharply, and kissed Gwen's bare shoulder to soften the demand.

*

When they arrived the town was in an uproar. They met Arthur and a squad of guards just outside the castle gates. “There were two druids in the marketplace,” Arthur gruffly informed them.

“And the entire army of Camelot hasn't managed to track down two druids?” 

“We got one of them, but there was another who escaped, a young boy.”

“A boy?” Morgana grabbed his arm. “Arthur, you can't use guards to chase down a child!”

He shrugged her off, “What would you have me do?” For once Morgana was speechless, “Yes, that's what I thought.”

Morgana spent the day wandering the castle, but she couldn't hear any trace of the voice that had woken her in the woods. Not until later that night, when it woke her again. 

_Help me. Please help me. They're going to kill me._ 

This time when she left her chambers she didn't go to the Dragon's cave. Instead she followed the voice up to the tower where the court physician had his workshop. 

Gaius opened the door almost immediately, he didn't look as though he'd been sleeping, but then Morgana had not expected him to. 

“My lady, it's late-” 

Morgana pushed past him, through his workshop, ran up the narrow staircase and pushed open the door at the top. On a cot inside, pale and sickly looking, was the druid boy. She gently closed the door so as not to wake him and turned to face Gaius. 

“How did you know?” he asked. 

“I saw it in a dream,” she replied, “and you don't look surprised by that.” 

“How long have you known,” Gaius asked, once they were sitting downstairs in his workshop and he'd prepared them some tea, “about your powers?” 

“Several months now.” 

“Hmm, I always worried that the sleeping draught would stop working.” 

“You've been drugging me. Ever since I told you I'd dreamed about the Dragon.” 

Gaius jerked, and some of his tea spilled from his cup. “You know of the Dragon?” 

“Who do you think told me about what you'd been doing to me?”

“Morgana,” Gaius clutched her hand desperately, “you can't trust anything it says!”

“Believe me, I don't trust it. Then again, you've been drugging me without my knowledge for nearly ten years so I don't know that I should trust anything you say either.” 

Gaius sighed, “Morgana, when you arrived in Camelot you were just a child and Uther did not yet know you. I was afraid that if he discovered your powers he would have you killed before you could grow to use them properly. I was trying to protect you.” 

“And when I was grown?” 

“I always intended to tell you about your dreams and teach you to understand them. But Uther's hatred of witchcraft grew ever more intense and it was never safe.”

“And hiding the druid boy is safe?” 

“When Uther came to power he executed sorcerers, grown sorcerers, who understood their powers and had chosen what ends to use them for.” Gaius looked down, “I helped him. The boy is like you were, a child. I've sent word to the druids, as soon as he is well enough I will make my excuses to the king and take him to them.” 

“Gaius, you're the king's personal physician, what excuse could you possibly have for leaving the kingdom for days on end? No, I'll take the boy.” 

“And how are you planning to convince the king to let you leave?” 

“I'll think of something,” said Morgana, and then almost to herself, “I'm getting good at that.” 

* 

_Morgana._

“You wish to go and visit your cousin?” Uther asked. 

_Morgana, listen to me._

“Morgana?” said Uther, a little more sharply. 

_Morgana, you cannot help the druid boy._ 

“Er, yes, my lord. My cousin, Elaine.” 

_The boy is a threat. To all of us, Morgana!_

A visit to one of her father's relations who she hadn't seen in years was as good an excuse as any to let her depart the kingdom. Unfortunately the dragon's incessant whittering in her mind was making it difficult to concentrate on her conversation with the king. 

“Very well. You will take a squad of guards with you.” 

“Yes, my lord. I mean, no. The road leading out of Camelot is perfectly safe and my cousin will send a squadron of her guards to meet me.” 

Morgana owed it to the fact that Uther was preoccupied with the hunt for the boy that he didn't question this. 

* 

“I should come with you,” insisted Gwen, packing food and water for Morgana's trip. 

“Not this time,” said Morgana. “There are still guards everywhere looking for the boy, I've put you in enough danger.” 

“If there are guards everywhere, are you sure it's a good idea to try and sneak the boy away?”

“Now you sound like the Dragon.” Morgana could still hear it, niggling at the back of her mind, demanding her attention. 

“Why, what does the Dragon say?”

“That the boy's a danger. That he will be the downfall of us all.” 

“That's ridiculous! He's just a child.” 

“Exactly,” Morgana kissed Gwen goodbye and picked up her bag. “Don't let Arthur kill himself in my absence.”

* 

Their journey was quiet, the druid boy didn't say much, out loud or in Morgana's mind. On their second night she was watching the boy sleep by the light of the fire, she found the sight soothing, when she became aware of someone sitting down next to her. 

“It's becoming impossible to get any peace and quiet,” Morgana complained to Nimueh. “If it's not the Dragon then it's you.” 

“If you wanted a quiet life, Morgana, you should not have set yourself up as Arthur's protector.”

“I've asked about you, Nimueh.” Sort of, she'd spoken to Geoffrey in a round-about way about the sorceress, but he'd told her enough to know that Nimueh was dangerous. “And I won't let you hurt Arthur.” 

“Arthur?” Nimueh laughed, “I have no great interest in Arthur. Uther is my enemy. In fact I'm glad you're protecting him, better you than that whelp, Merlin.” 

“What do you want, Nimueh?”

“Uther. I want him dead, and I want you to stay out of the way and let it happen.” 

“Uther's been like a father to me!” Morgana objected. 

“Oh, and if you want my advice you'll slay that boy immediately,” and with that Nimueh vanished as quietly as she'd arrived. 

* 

Morgana returned the druid boy, Mordred, to his people, and did not regret it for a moment. Nimueh and the Dragon were hardly what she would call reliable sources of information. She returned to Camelot to find Gwen waiting for her by the main gate, anxiously wringing her hands. 

“He'll kill him,” she said, without preamble. “You only have to look at him to know that.” 

“Who'll kill who? Gwen, calm down. What are you talking about?” 

“Sir Pellinor. I don't mean Pellinor's going to kill anybody. The knight's already killed Owain, and he's going to kill Pellinor.”

“What knight?” 

“It was at the coronation, to make Arthur crown prince, there was a knight, dressed all in black. He challenged Uther, but Sir Owain picked up the gauntlet and...” Gwen trailed off. 

“He was killed?” 

“Yes, but, Morgana, I'd swear Owain landed a killing blow. I've been around weapons my whole life and I'd swear to it.” 

“I believe you, I do,” Morgana wanted to take Gwen into her arms, but they were in the courtyard surrounded by prying eyes. 

“The Black Knight challenged Uther again, and this time Sir Pellinor accepted.” 

It was Nimueh, it had to be. She'd said she wanted to kill Uther and a knight who couldn't be killed was a better method than most. “When is the fight?” 

“Now, up at the training field.”

Morgana let Gwen lead her quickly up to the training field, even though she knew that with the fight already in progress there was very little she could do. They arrived just in time to see Pellinor land a blow to his opponent's neck. The Black Knight staggered, then straightened up and impaled Sir Pellinor on his sword. Morgana winced and Gwen turned away so that her face was pressed against Morgana's shoulder. Morgana was just turning away, to take Gwen back to the castle when Arthur leapt onto the field. 

“I, Prince Arthur, challenge you,” he declared, throwing his gauntlet down.

“Oh, you _idiot,_” Morgana seethed.

* 

The Black Knight in the courtyard didn't move, didn't eat, didn't sleep. Just stood and silently waited for the next day's fight to begin. 

“Right,” said Morgana, looking out the window at the knight below. “This should be easy, just sneak up behind him and cut his head off.”

Gwen snaked her arms around Morgana's waist from behind and stood on tiptoes to kiss her cheek, “Have I mentioned that I really missed you?” 

“Yes. But feel free to mention it again.” 

“I really missed you. No one talked to me about beheading apparently invulnerable knights while you were away.” 

“However did you cope?” Morgana turned around and kissed Gwen quickly. “Shall we go?” 

* 

The Black Knight was still standing motionless when Gwen and Morgana got down to the courtyard. Morgana was just reaching for the sword when a guard stepped out in front of her. 

“Good evening, my lady.”

“Good evening.” 

“You should be careful, my lady, that knight is dangerous.” 

I know, thought Morgana, that's why you should go and have a cup of tea and I should deal with him. Aloud she said, “Is that right?”

“Yes, my lady. We've got guards posted all around the yard so no one gets hurt before the fight tomorrow.” 

“That's very conscientious of you.” Morgana and Gwen walked nonchalantly away. Well, Gwen did, Morgana tried, but it was quite hard to walk nonchalantly with a sword concealed in one's cloak. 

* 

“I suppose,” mused Morgana from a second floor window, “that I could just thrown the sword in the general direction of the Knight and hope it kills him.”

“Or you could give the sword to Arthur for the fight tomorrow?” suggested Gwen. 

“I love you, you know that?”

“You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

* 

Arthur was practising stances when Morgana arrived in his chambers. 

“Oh, good,” she said, “because the Black Knight is bound to be frightened off by something we learned when we were five.”

“The basics are important. What do you want, Morgana?”

“I want to give you this,” Morgana held her sword out to Arthur, “for the battle tomorrow.”

“Thank you, but I fear I'm in enough trouble without using a girl's sword.”

“Oh, just take it, would you?” 

“It's... Actually it's good, the balance is excellent. Where did you get it?” 

“Gwen's father forged it,” Morgana omitted the dragon-based detour the sword had taken before reaching Arthur. “Now give me the sword you were using.” 

“Why?” Arthur asked, but tossed her the sword anyway.

“You can't practice the basics alone.” 

“Morgana, do you know what you are wearing?” 

Morgana swept up the hem of the dress in one hand, and angled the sword with the other. “Yes, I'm getting rather good at fighting in a dress.” It was true, she was, at least as long as she wasn't expected to hold a shield at the same time. 

Just then there was a knock at the door and Gaius popped his head round the door. “Sire, your father asked me to bring you something to help you sleep.” 

“Not now, Gaius,” said Arthur, who was too busy squaring up against Morgana to deal with the physician.

“Yes, sire,” and with that Gaius departed. 

* 

In the morning Arthur killed the Black Knight with surprisingly little ceremony. 

“It is a very good sword,” observed Gwen. 

“My very good sword,” responded Morgana. 

“Tell that to Arthur.”

“I don't think I'm paying you to answer back, Gwen.” 

“No, Morgana, but there are a number of other services you're not paying me for either.”

Nothing ever before had caused Morgana to blush that far down her cleavage. 

“My lady,” said the servant who'd crept up on them during this exchange. “The king requires your presence.” 

*

The king apparently required her and Arthur's presence both. Uther was in a foul mood, he was dressed in full armour, almost as if he'd been expecting to fight the Black Knight.

“I'm disappointed in both of you,” said Uther. Despite being grown adults Arthur and Morgana hung their heads. They did have an advantage over the rest of Camelot's population in that they were pretty sure that the king wouldn't actually have them beheaded. “You should never have challenged that Knight, you knew it was against my will,” Arthur winced. “And you, Morgana, claiming you were going to visit a cousin who knew nothing about your trip.” 

“Sorry, my lord,” muttered Morgana. 

“Running around the castle behind my back, sword fights in the corridors, affairs with the serving girls.”

Morgana risked a glance upwards. Uther's gaze was locked on Arthur. Oh, thank God, so Arthur had been sneaking around the castle and fighting in corridors too, and everyone knew about him and the kitchen maids. At least Uther hadn't gotten wind of her and Gwen's relationship. 

“Sorry, father,” Arthur added his apology to Morgana's and they both backed out of the room.

As soon as she was out in the corridor Gwen grabbed her arm, “What happened?”

“He's stolen my sword,” said Morgana, watching Arthur stride off in the opposite direction with the magic sword slapping against his thigh. 

“You gave it to him.” 

“Loaned!”

“But we're not about to be beheaded by the king?” asked Gwen, who was in many ways a more pragmatic individual than Morgana. 

“Oh, no. At least, not yet.” 

*

Morgana dreamed of raiders sacking a village, murdering the occupants and leaving the survivors to starve. She dreamed again of Merlin, raising a storm of magic to drive the attackers away. 

She woke feeling a stab of irritation at Merlin. If he wasn't going to come to Camelot and fulfil what the dragon said was his destiny, then the least he could do was stay out of her dreams. 

*

Gwen was dressing Morgana for the day, at least that was the idea. Gwen's hands wandered over Morgana's bare skin and she dropped kisses on her shoulders and the back of her neck. 

“I'm thinking of hiring another maid,” said Morgana, turning and pulling Gwen against her, “to help me dress on mornings when I'm actually in a hurry.” 

“Are you in a hurry this morning?” 

“Hmm, not especially.” 

This partly explains how Arthur managed to go hunting, slay a unicorn and present its horn as a gift to his father before Morgana made it out of bed. 

“What did the unicorn ever do to you?” she asked Arthur later in the day. Arthur's brow furrowed as he tried and failed to come up with a witty response. 

* 

Uther and Arthur, in their latest misguided attempt to protect her, hadn't informed her about the destruction of Camelot's harvest. Morgana heard it from Gwen, who'd heard it from a chambermaid, who'd got it from one of the guards. 

“Not eating, Morgana?” Uther asked, looking at her across their elaborately laid table. 

“I'm just not hungry, my lord,” she pushed her plate away. Uther looked disapproving, but she noticed neither he nor Arthur had touched their plates. 

*

It wasn't long before Morgana was regretting not finishing that meal. 

“Finish it,” she said, pushing the plate containing her meagre breakfast across the table to Gwen. 

“No, it's alright. I get rations like everybody else.” 

“All of which you give to your father. I know you, Gwen.”

“Have you had any dreams?” Gwen asked, gratefully taking up the plate. 

“Yes. All of them about food,” said Morgana bitterly. “It's a famine, Gwen, there's nothing mystical about it.”

“I have to get down to the well,” remarked Gwen, “at least we still have water.”

Gwen's remark had nothing to do with the reservoir drying up, but they both wished she hadn't said it. 

* 

“Hello?” Morgana called, there was no response. “Listen, I haven't had any water since yesterday, I can't stand here and shout.”

The Dragon landed on its rock. It opened its mouth but no sound came out. It coughed up a little fireball and croaked, “What?” 

So there was no water down here either, so much for that bright idea. “The kingdom is under some kind of a curse, what can I do?” 

“Nothing.” 

“You know they say Dragons are distant cousins of chickens, I'm beginning to believe them.”

“Arthur caused the curse, he must be the one to lift it.” 

“_Arthur_ caused the curse?” Morgana was going to kill him, future king or not she was going to kill him. 

“He killed a unicorn, to lift the curse he must prove to the keeper of the unicorns that he is pure of heart.” 

Morgana mused on this for a moment, “I don't suppose the keeper of the unicorns would like to take my word for it?”

* 

“That sounds simple enough,” said Gwen when Morgana told her what the Dragon had said. “I mean, Arthur is pure of heart.” 

“You haven't heard what the test is yet, Arthur has to give up his life for someone else.” 

“We'd be sending him to his death.” 

“Maybe, maybe not. I don't think the Dragon would tell me anything that would get Arthur killed, ever since I've known it all it's wanted is for Arthur to become king.” 

“Are you willing to risk it?” 

Morgana looked at the courtyard full of people queuing for their pathetic rations, she felt a gnawing in her stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. “I don't think I have a choice.”

“I should go, then,” said Gwen, “with Arthur.”

“Absolutely not. I'm going.”

“That won't prove anything,” said Gwen. “You're the king's ward, Arthur loves you like a sister, of course he'd die for you. I'm only a servant-” 

“That's a good idea.” 

“Is it?” said Gwen, surprised at Morgana's agreement. 

“Yes, with one slight adjustment.” Morgana strode past Gwen, across the courtyard to where Morris was skulking against the wall trying not to be noticed. She grabbed him by his tunic. 

As a rule Morgana aggravated Morris's state of perpetual terror, but he managed to squeak, “I haven't got any food.”

“Never mind that, I've got a job for you.” 

Morris was very stoic about going off with Arthur to face a possibly fatal magical test. He didn't even whimper that much. 

* 

When Arthur and Morris both returned alive to a kingdom full of food and water Morgana was so relieved that she momentarily forgot to be cross that Arthur was still carrying her sword.

*

Morgana picked up a dirty shirt from the pile on the chair, wrinkled her nose and dropped it. 

“I don't like this,” said Gwen. 

“Neither do I,” agreed Morgana, “the least Arthur could do is open a window.” 

“I meant,” explained Gwen patiently, “that I'm not comfortable snooping in the crown prince's rooms when he's out.” 

“Be sensible, Gwen, if he was here he would not have admitted us.” 

“Why are you so sure he's keeping the sword here? He might have it stored in the armoury.” 

“No, I've-” 

“You've already looked there,” Gwen smiled indulgently at Morgana. “What about the wardrobe?” 

“The wardrobe?” 

“It's where you kept it.” 

Morgana opened the door to Arthur's wardrobe, slightly afraid of what she'd find in there. “Ah, well, obviously,” she said, gingerly lifting the sword out, “great minds think alike.” 

They tried to leave Arthur's chambers exactly as they'd found them, which basically meant dropping the few things they'd picked up back onto the floor. 

They were nearly back to Morgana's chambers (looking as innocent as two people who'd just crept, armed, out of the private rooms of the heir to the realm could) when they heard a voice behind them.

“Hello again, Morgana.”

Morgana pushed Gwen behind her and raised the sword, “Nimueh.” 

“You don't really think that's going to work, do you? I thought you were bright.” Nimueh waved her hand lackadaisically and the sword flew out of Morgana's hand and clattered against the wall. 

“Who is she?” Gwen asked from behind Morgana. The two sorceresses stared at each other and ignored her. 

“You know,” Nimueh continued, “I really thought we'd come to an understanding about Uther.” 

“Your Knight, I assume the Black Knight was your doing, was going to kill Arthur before it got anywhere near Uther!”

“If you knew what Uther had done you would not care how many other people had to die.” 

“Nimueh, the executions happen beneath my bedroom window. I know exactly what Uther has done.”

Nimueh raised her palm towards Morgana. “Then I hope you realise that if Uther had allowed you to develop your powers you might have had a chance of surviving this. As it is...”

Morgana's world moved rapidly sideways as Gwen grabbed her and pulled her sharply to the left. Nimueh's spell glanced off Gwen's arm and sent her spinning into the wall. 

“Gwen!” without thinking about it or knowing what would happen Morgana thrust her arm out. 

Nimueh laughed as the spell rushed towards her, already fading away. “I'll be back for you. Both of you.” 

Morgana stared at the palm of her hand in shock. “Fireballs, that's a new one.” There was a groan and Morgana rushed to Gwen. “You idiot, what did you think you were doing? You could have been killed!”

“I'm okay, thank you for asking.” 

“Be quiet,” Morgana ordered, crouching next to Gwen and feeling her all over for injuries. 

“What's going on here?” asked Arthur, who had thoroughly mastered the knack of appearing at the least opportune moment. 

“What does it look like?” Morgana asked, then hearing herself, “Don't say it. I'm in no mood. Just help me get her up and into bed.” 

Arthur opened his mouth but Morgana's glare shut him up.

*

Gwen wouldn't stay in bed and insisted on accompanying Morgana to the Dragon's cave. 

“Ah, the young seer graces me with her presence again. And I see you've brought the future queen with you.”

“What!?” 

“Not now, Gwen. There's a sorceress called Nimueh who wants to kill Gwen and I. And possibly Arthur,” she added, trying to pique the Dragon's interest. 

“You cannot defeat Nimueh in Camelot.” 

“You're not a naturally helpful reptile, are you?”

“The source of Nimueh's power is the Isle of the Blessed, only there can she be killed.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Hey, just a minute-”

“I'll explain later,” Morgana promised, pulling Gwen up the stairs by the hand.

*

Morgana and Gwen were packing for their trip to the Isle of the Blessed. 

“Do you know what did the Dragon meant, about me?” Gwen asked. 

“Gwen,” Morgana sighed, she sat next to Gwen on the bed, wrapped her arms around her and started again. “Gwen, the only reason I didn't tell you what the Dragon said was that I didn't want to lose you before I had to-”

It was then that Arthur arrived for his daily argument with Morgana. He took one look at Gwen and Morgana embracing on the bed and said in a shocked tone of voice, “Morgana, what are you wearing?”

“Trousers, try not to faint.”

Arthur looked at the bags, “Going somewhere?”

“That's none of your concern,” Morgana said, hefting the sword from its hiding place. 

“And,” continued Arthur, “isn't that my sword?”

“Actually-” 

Please, sire,” Gwen interrupted, touching Arthur's elbow, “don't get her started.”

“Where are you going?” When both girls remained silent he said, “Fine, I'll just go and tell my father that you're leaving.”

“Wait,” Morgana pinched the bridge of her nose, she missed the days when she could make Arthur do whatever she wanted by threatening to hit him around the head with a wooden sword. “There's a witch, Nimueh, she threatened us both.” 

“Then the knights and I will deal with her, this is no work for women.” 

Morgana and Gwen exchanged a look behind Arthur's back. 

“Arthur,” Morgana said, “have you any idea how many times I've saved your life?” 

“No.”

So Morgana told him and in the resultant confusion they managed to convince him not to take out a band of knights. He did insist on coming along himself, for their protection, apparently. 

“Fine,” Morgana reluctantly conceded, “get your armour and meet us outside the castle gates in twenty minutes.”

* 

“Did you hear that?” Arthur asked. They were well off the beaten path, walking through the woods on their way to the Isle of the Blessed. 

“What?” 

“That!” Arthur drew his sword, “you two wait here,” he ordered and darted off to the left. 

In a moment Gwen and Morgana heard what Arthur had, the sound of something stumbling through the undergrowth. A brown haired boy wandered out of a thicket a few yards ahead of them. He grinned, looking incredibly glad to see them. Morgana recognised him from her dreams as Merlin.

“Oh, thank God, I've been walking around these woods for days. There's been this voice telling me I've got to go to Camelot.” 

“A deep, disembodied voice?” Morgana asked, “That breaks off every now and then to laugh manically?”

“Yes!”

“And it’s been telling you that it's your destiny to protect Prince Arthur?” 

“Yes!” 

Morgana looked Merlin up and down. “Good,” she said, “I've been at this for months and to be honest I could use a holiday. Arthur is the process of sneaking up behind you, he knows the way back to Camelot. Try to keep him alive, won't you? Oh, there's an enchanted sword that comes with the job but I need that, I'm sure you'll manage.”

“I-” Merlin gaped. 

“Don't worry about the Dragon,” Morgana added, “its bark is worse than its bite.”

She offered her arm to Gwen, “Shall we?” 

“Yes, I think we shall.”

And Morgana and Gwen headed off to face Nimueh and then take a well earned romantic holiday, leaving Arthur in the hands of a bemused Merlin.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Pastimes and Lifestyles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318125) by [sophinisba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba)




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